


Bask and the Pirate (and the Demon)

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Series: Transcendence AU in Space [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: In pursuit of his greatest treasure, Bask Atanya will have to risk everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a direct sequel to Hadley and the Pirate (and the Demon), but it will make more sense if you've read that first.

                 ‘Treasure Hunter’ wasn’t the title Bask Atanya would use to describe himself. Not officially, anyway. It didn’t get him through customs, and it most certainly didn’t get him into restricted sectors or past police tape. No no, officially he was ‘an archaeologist specializing in the location and retrieval of artifacts with high market value’.

                It was basically the same thing, but with longer and fancier words. And it worked well enough in separating him from every two-bit gold hound with a metal detector on their ship; usually the authorities looked a little more kindly on those with paperwork and a business card. ‘Treasure Hunter’ just didn’t carry that kind of authenticity.

                But, Bask would admit, that was exactly what he was. He’d been a treasure hunter for twenty years now, and though the work was slow, difficult, tedious and often unrewarding, he’d been more successful than most in his field. Ten years ago he’d been all over the news for discovering the lost Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom; they’d been missing for centuries after the ship transporting them exploded and jettisoned them into space. And five years after that he’d tracked down Voyager I and recovered its coveted golden record.

                He liked to think it was skill, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit there was an element of luck to his business. First off, he was an Atanya for star’s sake – not many other treasure hunters had access to the entire Stanley Pines Memorial Library like he did. Call it nepotism, but when your great-great uncle headed the whole Gravity Falls restoration movement, it was a little easier to get into the backroom and have a peek at all the books they didn’t put out on the shelves. Delicate paper records about the Crown Jewels, ancient photos of the Voyager probe… that kind of thing. Also, his success in the business meant he had a little more cash to play around with, which in turn led to more success – it was a good deal, when most other treasure hunters could hardly get their foot in the door.

                So no, Bask wouldn’t say he was entirely responsible for his success. But that, like his title, was something he’d only admit to himself. He’d spent his life uncovering the lost treasures of the universe, and now, he was ready to find the most infamous one yet. One that would catapult him into the ranks of the most legendary treasure hunters of all time.

                The treasures of the Dread Pirate Mizar.

 

* * *

 

                He found it in the library, of course. Most days Bask would sit in the backroom and trawl through files to find his latest big case. There were always plenty of new arrivals; sometimes, books would first appear on his desk before being registered if the workers knew they’d be of particular interest to him. This book clearly was one of those.

                It had a lightless black cover, possibly an old nanosteel compound of some sort. Judging from the patterns etched into its front, it was clearly meant to be a captain’s log from the UL’s later Great Conquest Period – there had been a resurgence of physical records then after the infamous AL-V Battleship Hack of 31733 – belonging to… the name had been burnt off. Bask noticed his fingers stained black as he turned it to the back side.

It was strange; for such dated technology, it looked almost new. There was water damage, yes, and some tears to the pages as he flipped through it, but they were otherwise white as snow. Where spills and stains hadn’t crinkled the paper, it was smooth.

                It was too smooth, too white, too new… definitely a fake. He wrinkled his nose at the stains on his fingers, then pressed his knuckles to his temple. Screens appeared in front of him as he checked his messages.

                Bask frowned. Nothing. He sat back in his chair for a moment, rubbing his fingers.

Then he stood up and went to find whoever decided to put some cheap counterfeit on his desk. Of course there was nobody in the backroom, so he marched outside to find whoever was managing reception.

                It was Tyrone, as usual. The man was helping a client and didn’t appear to notice Bask as he slid behind the desk and laid the book in front of him.

                “Do you know anything about this?” Bask asked. Not demanded, asked. Tyrone took his sweet time checking out some old lady’s books.

                “Yes, you’re welcome, Ma’am. Thank you for visiting the Second Stanley Pines Memorial Library! Come again soon!” He kept smiling as he turned to Bask. “Now, what was that?”

                “This book. It was on my desk. Do you know anything about it?”

                “Oh, of course I know about this book. I put it there.”

                Bask raised an eyebrow. “You put it there?”

                “Yes. Did you read it?”

                “Tyrone, you’re- you’ve been working here way longer than me, man. You know it’s a fake, right?”

                “It’s not a fake.”

                “Look, this is clearly meant to imitate an old UL captain’s log; it’s remarkably accurate, sure, but it looks like it was grown yesterday.” He slid it over to Tyrone. “Thank you for bringing me things to study, but it’s simply not a historical document, and so it’s not in my field of interest. You can maybe keep that in mind for next time, yeah? I’d appreciate it.”

                Tyrone kept smiling at Bask. The silence stretched, and Bask shifted uncomfortably. This guy could be a little weird. In moments like these, with that peculiar shine in his eye, that stretch in his lips, that shadow over his features, he almost seemed… malevolent.

                In moments like these, Bask was reminded that he knew so much less about Tyrone than he wanted to.

                Then Tyrone looked down at the book, his smile fading, and suddenly he was just another librarian. Bask felt a little silly; he straightened his shoulders and crossed his arms to get rid of the last of that uneasiness.

                Tyrone picked up a ruler.

                “I mean, I don’t know what to tell you, Atanya.” He slid the book back to Bask with its end. “It’s real. Apparently it was found in stasis.”

                Bask raised an eyebrow. “Stasis? Where, exactly?”

                “That’s all the donor said. For all I know, he found it in his hat.”

“Hmm. Well, stasis would explain the age inconsistency. And if it was important enough to seal away…”

                “I think you should read it.” Tyrone said, and he was wearing that smile again. “I think it’s just the thing you’ve been looking for. Your big, big break. Read it; you’ll see.”

                Bask picked up the book again. He flipped through the pages, noting the loopy cursive handwriting. The writer only put one or two sentences in the centre of each page. Not standard for an officer’s logs.

                He closed the book. He had come to a decision.

“Alright.” Bask nodded at him. “You aren’t wrong often, Tyrone, I’ll give you that.”

                “I do know lots of things. About books.”

                “Heh, I’d be surprised if you didn’t, considering that’s literally all you’re being paid to do.” He started back towards the backroom. “Have a good one, man.”

                Tyrone waved him away.

 

* * *

 

                Back in the backroom, Bask’s communicator beeped. He almost dropped the book to check his messages. There was a new one! From…

                His accountant. Bask’s shoulder’s sagged. With a sigh, he skimmed over it and opened a page on Vantage. There were no new messages from her.

                Almost before he realised it, his mind was writing her another note.

                _I’m really sorry about last night_ , it read. _Can’t you please just talk to me? I just want to know how you’re doing._

 _I love you_.

                With a thought, he sent it off. He stood there, dazed, as he let his hand down and watched the screens disappear.

                “Hey, Mr Atanya!”

                Bask blinked. One of the other librarians was waving at him from atop a ladder.

                “Hi, uh, Uliva.”

                “You doing alright down there? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

                “Huh? No, it’s fine, everything’s fine.” He hurriedly sat down at his desk. “Can you, um…? Or at least, don’t talk. I need my quiet space.”

                Uliva rolled her eyes. “Oh, okay, your Majesty.”

                “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

                Bask took a deep breath. His knuckles hovered by his temple again, but he thought better of it and laid the book in front of him. Focus, focus.

                His fingers were still stained black. He probably should be wearing gloves – Bask took a moment to put them on. Then he opened the book to the first page, and began to read that loopy cursive writing.

                _I’m about to do something stupid. And you’re about to do something stupid, too_.

                It was decorated with little doodles of ‘DO NOT ENTER’ signs and skulls. On the second page, the writing continued.

                _I mean, you already did something stupid by picking up this book. Guess what that black stuff is on your hands?_

                Bask paused. He had a feeling he was going to regret not wearing gloves.

                _No, really , guess!_ Said the next page.

                _Come ooooon! If I was there, I’d give you a drumroll! Here’s a doodle of one instead._

                Bask flipped the page again.

                _If you guessed eternity marker, you are correct!_

                “Oh, sh- ugh!” Bask shot up, bumping his desk. Pencils went everywhere. “Goddamn-“

                “Mr Atanya! Are you-”

                “Quiet! I need peace and quiet and not your voice right now!”

                He rubbed his fingers again, but the stain did not come off. Of course it didn’t, it was eternity marker. Wait, Tyrone only touched it with a ruler – he knew, didn’t he? Oh, he totally knew! Bask glowered down at the book.

_You’re marked, buddy. No going back now, for either of us._

                Reluctantly, he turned the page.

                _But that’s okay. Sometimes you can’t walk back the stuff you’ve done. Sometimes you shouldn’t. And maybe we’ve both made some mistakes, but by the time you’re reading this I’m probably long dead. I can’t make any more._

                _But you? You can make a few more with me._

                With marked fingers, he turned the page.

                _I bet you’re wondering why. Well, I’ll tell you who I am, and you’ll stop wondering._

_Unless you don’t know who I am, in which case… awkwaaaard. But you’ll know who I am. I’m going to make sure you future people know my name._

                Bask turned the page.

                _I… AM… THE DREAD PIRATE MIZAR!!!_

_And this is my treasure journal. Maps are overrated. Journals are where it’s at._

               Bask’s eyes widened as he read those words. Her words. Suddenly, he understood exactly what Tyrone meant.

                “Holy shit,” He breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

                _Got a new case. A big one. I won’t be available for the next few weeks, so if there’s anything you want to say to me, now’s a good time._

                _I love you_.

                Bask took his hands off his communicator. The message screens flickered out, and he walked back to the cockpit seat on his spaceship. He glanced at the autopilot; no problems detected, arriving at destination in approximately 100 seconds.

                Good. He eased back in the chair, and took out the journal. The infinity marker-stained cover he’d wrapped in a layer of clear noble film, but the dark smudge on his fingers was still there as he flipped to the page he’d bookmarked. He rubbed them against his thumb as he read.

                _Alright, first treasure! That’s right, there’s more than one. And I even made a riddle for you! I’m not very good at riddles, but I’m kinda proud of this one._

_I mean, it’s no ‘what have I got in my pocket’ sort of thing, but I like it. I don’t know. Feel free to leave some constructive criticism at the bottom; I can take it!_

                Huh. He could’ve sworn he bookmarked the next page instead of this one. Anyway, Bask flipped one more ahead.

                _The heart of WEFIDS Homeworlds has long been stolen, but you’ll find me in the cold, dead hollow they left behind._

                _Yeah, do that, then come back. Rest of the journal won’t make sense otherwise. I mean, what even is a turtle?_

                Bask did have a look at the next few pages, and no, they did not make sense. No matter, the riddle itself had given him more than enough to go on.

WEFIDS, huh. It was okay. He liked a challenge.

                Bask tucked the book into the inner pocket of his jacket, and looked out the window. The stars streaking past his window at light speed suddenly stopped, and he felt his chair jerk back. A great blue gas giant loomed over his ship now, and he spotted just a shiny speck of a station orbiting above its thin rocky rings.

                _You have arrived at station TEFEN, system WEFIDS. 127 life signs detected. No planetary defenses detected._

                A rickety old ship came from behind and passed very close to Bask. He swerved away and watched them continue straight on to the station, either oblivious or uncaring to how close they were to a crash.

                “Oh, idiots.” Bask turned off the autopilot and took the controls. “Some people just shouldn’t be driving a spaceship.”

                He pulsed forwards, keeping a careful eye on the sensors. TEFEN station gradually came into detail as he approached; an old UL barracks clumsily rebranded into a less than legitimate bar. Black paint and laser fire had covered up the insignias, but Bask could tell from the architecture: wide sleeping quarters with the classic spire roof design and the L-shaped dock that was standard amongst many of their stations.

                A beep on his monitor; the station was hailing him. Bask accepted the call, and a screen appeared. It was too dark to make out much on the station’s side, but he could see the figure of something in the centre of the video.

                “Costs one hundred fents to dock, human.” The figure’s voice crackled as they spoke; the telltale sign of a universal translator.

                “I can pay.”

                “I only take fents. You have fents? Not credits, not ha’pieces, fents?”

                “I have fents.”

                “Good. If you are lying, it will be bad for you.”

                The feed shut off. A second later, the station signaled that he was clear to dock. Bask steered towards the shorter one, taking great care not to hit the other ships. That would not go down well here.

                Once he was in, Bask engaged the quantum lock, stood up, and headed towards the airlock at the back. He checked his wallet – yes, he had enough fents. It was lucky they were worth almost nothing to Kepler’s credits.

                Bask donned a space suit and opened the airlock. A railing was attached to the edge of the dock; he kept a firm hand on that as he floated himself towards the building. Bulky figures in white jetted around the station, their suits shining from the light of the nearby sun. Suspended in the silence of space, they almost seemed ethereal in appearance, like ghosts floating in the air without concern for such mortal concepts like gravity.

                Then Bask spotted that ship who nearly checked him on the way in, and that whole mysterious atmosphere was shattered. He glared at it as he passed by. Assholes.

                The station airlock was just up ahead. It opened for him, and he took a moment inside to adjust to the artificial gravity before it opened on the other side. A molesaw stood in front of him.

                If you’ve never seen a WEFIDS molesaw before, you might not understand the sudden rush of fear Bask got at the sight of one. They were broad, stocky, alien creatures – quite unlike the more human-proportioned aliens who occupied former UL space – with no defined head and hard, triangular lumps fixed into their flabby pale skin. What always caught one’s attention, though, were their arms. Extending well past their knees, thick muscle gave way at a joint to a wide, spade-shaped, bony appendage; perfect for digging tunnels or for smashing through skulls like watermelons, depending on the occasion.

This molesaw had carved serrations along the side of his bone spades. A few of them had broken off, but the rest were sharp as fangs, decorated with jagged lines and little circles etched into the yellowed bone. A translator necklace dangled off the sharpened tip, like an afterthought.

                The molesaw shifted, and the translator crackled. “Two hundred fents, _human_.”

                Bask said nothing as he fished them out. The molesaw extended one of its spades, and Bask placed the coins in. They slid down the bone to its elbow, and they somewhat awkwardly opened the pocket on the apron hung around their chest with their other spade whilst dropping the coins in. A few of them slipped out and fell on the floor, and they made a noise of frustration. The dropped coins began to levitate and flew into the pocket.

                Then the molesaw lumbered to the side. “Thank you for your fents. Bar is open to you.”

                “Much appreciated.” Bask slipped past them, and into the main bar. The ceiling was high but the lighting was dim, giving the place a cramped, stuffy air. Hulking molesaws and the odd outsider populated the tables, and in the back, arranged around a large pipe, was the bar. Bask watched in interest as the bartender telepathically opened a bottle of wine and poured it into a tall glass, then nudged it with their spade-hand towards the waiting customer.

                Somebody shoved Bask then, and he was shaken out of his observation. He turned to glare at the pusher, but then he relaxed.

                “Tchquih.” Bask smiled. “Just the guy I was looking for.”

                The molesaw turned slightly towards him. The universal translator fastened around their arm came online. “Good to see you. Though I’m a little worried that I won’t be after you explain this favour you need me to do.”

                “No need to worry. Should we get a table?”

                “Over in the corner.” They motioned him to a quieter area. The table was next to some old UL beds built into the wall, and Bask sat down on one of those instead of the large molesaw chairs. Tchquih took the chair, but their knees still stuck up above their waist. They leaned forwards, and their massive spade bones took up two thirds of the table. The edges were smooth instead of serrated, and the bone was carved with a geometric pattern of triangles and straight lines.

                “Now,” Tchquih said. “What do you need me to do?”

                “Cutting right to the chase, huh? Don’t you want a drink or something first?”

                They hesitated. “Maybe I do.”

                Tchquih turned in their seat and waved at the bartender. Though they were almost a room apart, the bartender waved back and started preparing a drink. A glass of dark purple liquid floated through the crowd and landed on the table. The liquid wobbled, and then a small sphere rose out of the glass and was guided onto one of the hard triangular lumps that dotted Tchquih's body.

                “That’s better.” They sat back. “Now, what are you looking for?”

                “I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that it’s very, very valuable.”

                “More than the jewels?”

                “I think so.” Bask watched another globule rise out of the glass. “I found a riddle in a book, and it definitely points towards the WEFIDS Homeworld. So-”

                Tchquih jerked forwards. The globule burst and spilled on the table. “Homeworld?!”

                “Yes. Now I know you may have some concerns-“

                “Some concerns?” They lowered their voice to a hiss. “You don’t understand. You’re a human. That still carries that UL stink; they’ll hold their noses out here, but you set foot on the Homeworld and they’ll rip you to pieces.”

                “I do understand. That’s where my favour comes in.”

                “You want me to smuggle you in.”

                “Yep. How much?”

                Tchquih tapped his spade on the table. “I knew I was right to be worried. I- ugh. This is crazy. You’re crazy.”

                Bask grinned. “I can pay.”

                “Look, I… I don’t know. I don’t even know if I should – nothing against you, friend, but I’m not sure if I want a human back on planet, after everything we went through to get them off...” They sat back, and then sat forward again. They jiggled their knee, and the table rattled. “Are you absolutely sure what you’re looking for is on Homeworld?”

                “Yes. I’m sure.”

                “What is it? I won’t tell, I just want to know.”

                Bask shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t want it getting out. But trust me, it’ll be worth it. Name your price, buddy. Just get me on planet.”

                Tchquih hesitated a second longer, then they straightened. “Alright. One million.”

                “In fents?”

                “In credits.”

                “I-in credits?!”

                “You said any price. That’s my price.” They pushed their glass aside. “And I want part of the credit for discovery.”

                Bask shook his head. “I’ll pay a million, but I won't give you credit.”

                “Are you serious? You said name a price, and I-“

                “The credit is not a price, Tchquih. I did the work, I get the credit.”

                “Oh, I’d say I’m doing plenty of work over here.”

                “You don’t even know what you’re taking credit for!”

                “That's true, but I know with your track record it’s gonna be something big.”

                Bask crossed his arms. “A million and a half, and I keep the credit.”

                “Two million.”

                “A million seventy five. That’s as high as I’ll go.”

                 “So much for ‘name your price.” Tchquih grunted. “…Alright. I’ll get you on planet for one million and seven hundred and fifty thousand credits.”

                “I’ll shake on that. Metaphorically speaking.”

                They snorted. “You’re a strange little human, Bask. I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”

                “I know.” Bask grinned. “I’m good at getting what I want. So, when do you think you can squeeze me in?”

                “My company’s got a shipload bound to the Homeworld in about a week. I think I can smuggle you in there – I think. I’ll have to sit down and work out the specifics.”

                “Excellent.” He stood up. “I think we’re done here.”

                “I think we are. I’ll give you a call in the next day or so. Send the money first, though.”

                “The money first?”

                “Yeah.” Tchquih had no face, but they seemed to look up at him. “Cause if I send you down there and an angry mob pulls your spine out through your stomach and mounts your head on your sharpened femur, you won’t be in much of a condition to follow through.”

                Bask gulped. “I see. Money first.”

                “Hah. Don’t worry, I only saw that happen once. Usually we’ll just crush your skull.” They stretched their arms, their heavy spade coming inches from his nose. “It’s real easy – you humans really don’t have enough protection around your brain. Just a big, squishy shut down switch sticking out of your shoulders. It's _real_ easy.”

                Bask backed away. “I’m going now.”

                He quickly left the bar, hurrying back to his ship. Once he was out of that mess, he let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he smiled.

                The legendary treasure… just a week away from his reach. He pulled up his messages.

                _The case is moving fast. I’m going to be offline in a week, but I’ll tell you when I’m back. Or you’ll see it on the news. Isn’t that exciting?_


End file.
